


on your knees

by lovefueledinsomnia



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Blood, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face Slapping, Femdom, Finger Sucking, Foot Jobs, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Marking, Non-Graphic Violence, Obsessive Love, Restraints, Stalker, Stalker Kaoru gets taught a lesson, Yandere, bottom Kaoru, kind of???, more like dick stepping but Lite (TM), ya feel me?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28710300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovefueledinsomnia/pseuds/lovefueledinsomnia
Summary: After weeks of unrelenting pursuit, you finally give in to your stalker's tender assaults and accept a thinly-veiled invitation to meet him for yourself.Perhaps, in the end, you walked straight into his trap. How could anyone resist this beautiful, sandy blonde-haired man's gentle, maddened devotion?Urged on by his amorous docility, you end up taking advantage of your restrained captor, taking revenge on him for his treatment of you...A stalker!Kaoru x dominant!Reader fic.
Relationships: Hakaze Kaoru/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	on your knees

“Really, it’s as if you did all this on purpose.” It was only the sound of your own bored voice in a bizarre monologue, its other  _ (un) _ willing participant kneeling quietly in a corner of the room.

“I thought you could do better than that. At first, I was even  _ scared  _ of you, you know?” You could only scoff at that notion, your cold eyes drilling into your restrained audience’s own gaze. He didn’t look intimidated in the slightest, which was both disappointing and an ill-omen. Ever since you’d forced him to your feet, he’d been lovingly staring up at you, his eyes bright with badly concealed tears. A grotesque spectacle, but one you were drawn to against your own will.

“You don’t deserve to be feared, do you? You don’t even deserve me glancing your way.” Muffled complaints  _ (agreement?)  _ were easy to ignore, and your voice effortlessly drowned his own. 

“I have no idea who you even  _ are _ , and I couldn’t care less—” More exclamations through his gag, sounding vaguely like a name you’d seen on some huge billboard before, and the sharp sound of your heel hitting the floor wasn’t even enough to quiet him down.

“ _ I said. I don’t care. _ You could be some rich heir or a fucking  _ idol,  _ and you’d still be nothing to me.” This time you stood, his disgusting,  _ enamored _ gaze sticking to your every limb and drawing you closer despite yourself. His sandy blonde hair was soft and silky in your grasp— he cared for it meticulously, and that thought almost overshadowed the throaty moan he let out at the sudden pain.

“Why should I care, after all? You’re just the disgusting creep who lured me here.” So absorbed were you in your little act, you’d almost fooled yourself into thinking you were the master of the place. The flat, just like everything in it, stank of him and his honeyed gaze. Truly, you almost felt spied on by everything in the room, even with him tied down so tightly at your feet. 

Bile rose in your throat when the poor fool braved his restraints to rub his face against your calves. You didn’t even think twice about it; you struck, your shoe hitting his pretty face mercilessly. You thought he laughed, so you hit again, the noise of your foot hitting his bones sickening.

Blood dripped along that fair skin, his cheeks tinted pink and his dark eyes still looking up at yours with a softness, a  _ kindness _ you had not felt in so long. You paid no mind to the tightness in your throat as you spoke again.

“I should just leave you here and call the cops. You don’t deserve my time.” And yet you did not move an inch. He did not budge either. He sat, quietly, obediently, his eyes never once leaving yours even as blood poured endlessly on that beautiful face. The pain must have been excruciating— you heard it yourself, how his bone cracked under your blows. And yet he never spoke, smiling under the gag. The very picture of an obedient—

“Paw.” The word crossed your lips before you even thought it through. But that did not matter.

That did not matter, because he  _ giggled _ , hand raising despite the pain of the too-tight handcuffs around his wrist. He bravely fought the harsh metal, raising his extended fingers as close to yours as possible, hoping to just brush against them—

You slapped his hand away. Your palm stung, yet your voice was levelled, if breathy.

“You’re… You’re lucky. I’m going to indulge you a little.” Lies, all lies, a semblance of good conscience as you let go of the chains binding his legs. You could’ve left him to rot, abandoned him prey to his fate and to public scorn, and yet you chose to untie him, your legs shaky under you as you went to sit again.

It was all because of his eyes, gentle and chocolate-hued and begging you to  _ give me a chance, oh please, I love you I love you I love you I’ve always dreamed of being your slave your dog your— _

You didn’t know why you slapped him when he all but crawled to your side. But he keened, face buried against your legs, even as another red mark joined the streak of blood down his skin. 

Maybe _ that _ was why you kept going; his pleased whines and the awful tent in his pants. His eyes, it was all his  _ eyes _ , whispering and murmuring of all the masterpieces you could leave on the canvas of his naked skin; bloody paintings he’d treasure forever, his body like a museum.

The heat between your legs was insufferable. And you were sure he sensed it, he  _ smelled _ it, for his incessant rubbing in your lap became insistent and pointed, his eyes promising untold pleasures if you just  _ undid the gag, please, pleasepleaseplease let me lick let me mark let me love— _

The gag was hard to remove with trembling fingers. He shivered in your awkward embrace, little moans growing into cooing as you finally freed him. Drool trickled down his reddened chin, pouring out as his voice did.

“Please let me lick you, please, I’ll do such a good job, I beg of—” Your fingers dived into the blonde’s mouth, coaxing out pleased moans as he suckled onto them, growing instantly empty-headed and obedient. He did not resist as you pushed your invading digits further and further, until he gagged and heaved pathetically, eyes wet with pain and yet full of desire.

“Please, who?” Your lips were on autopilot; your hazy mind, your foggy brain,  _ everything _ had been overtaken by the gaze of the beautiful man pressing feverish kisses on your feet, ankles, knees, everywhere he could reach.

“Please,  _ mistress _ … I’m yours, I’ve always been and I’ll always— oh…!” He was hard under the sole of your foot, lips contorting into a blissful smile as you roughly kneaded his crotch. Moans poured out of his parted lips like prayers, his eyes gazing at you like he would at an idol— an ecstatic priest lost in bliss.

“I’ll let you show me what you can do, just once. Don’t disappoint.” Your thighs trembled despite your bravado; his hot breath on your sensitive skin was driving you mad. His tongue was only waiting for your command, and the blonde  _ (your pet) _ lunged in as soon as you let go of the fistful of hair you were grabbing tightly.

His fingers were ravenous as they threw away your shoes and clothes, and yet his lips were so delicate, so gentle as they pressed endless kisses on every inch of exposed skin— chaste pecks on the sole of your feet, hot tongue trailing on your inner thighs, and his imprisoned fingers caressing and worshipping everything they could. His moan when he reached your drenched underwear was that of a starving man, and his mouth latched on your most sensitive places, licking, flicking and  _ devouring _ you through the fabric.

You did not know which of you got rid of your underwear first— you were utterly lost to the pleasure of those experienced lips servicing you with the desperation of a man condemned to death. He knew everything already; your hands, pulling at his hair in a twisted desire to hurt him even as he was pleasuring you, did not need to guide him. He lapped at every gushing drop, eyes half-closed and cheeks radiating heat, his face the very picture of sexual bliss. Truly, he looked like _ you _ were the one servicing him, and judging by the raw tones of delight from his throat, you may have been doing just that.

His forgotten crotch was slick and wet when your feet pressed against him in a desperate attempt to hurt him, to _bruise him_ _more_ , and you did not know anymore who was pleasuring whom. That didn’t matter— all that mattered was to mark him, to make him _yours,_ your nails digging deep in the exposed flesh of his neck and making him shiver against you. His ecstatic moans were a delicious melody, his whole body an instrument for you to play as his tongue worked wonders against you.

“Good boy. Good,  _ dirty _ boy. Keep going. Keep going…” The words— the  _ moans _ tumbled free from your bitten red lips, succumbing to the delights of his own. He needed no incentive, face wet with your essence or perhaps his own tears, delirious words of devotion lost against your sensitive flesh. You did not need to hear them; it was all pouring, radiating from his whole being, desperate plaints and lust-addled begging,  _ keep using me take me as yours I want to be yours only please— _

You suddenly became aware of the blood against your fingers. You did not remember puncturing skin, but his neck, his shoulders, his  _ face _ — all were covered in patterns left by your cruel nails, inscribed into his flesh, a quiet testament of your love that had him quaking and whimpering, shaking uncontrollably from between your thighs. Warm wetness coated your feet, and the pressure of his restrained hands on your legs became tighter with each moan he let out, but you did not care. You kept marking him, hurting him, riding his face in selfish pursuit of your own pleasure and using him like—

“My toy. You’re my dirty, hopeless little toy. Mine and mine alone, forever and ever.” His giggles against you were oh so delightful, and the assault of his clever tongue became too much to endure. The blonde’s eyes instantly closed, lips parting in wait of your orgasm— so used to giving pleasure already.

His questing tongue, hungry lips and desperate fingers; the warmth of his own essence on your feet and the wordless  _ devotion _ inscribed onto his very face… That painting of raw submission was too much, too delightful and stimulating; and suddenly you were coming, with no name to call out and no praise to give. It was just your fingers entangled in his hair, tugging as hard as you came. The blonde let out grateful little sobs, taking in everything you had to give him, his parched tongue collecting every drop and savoring them as one would the most exquisite nectar.

It was over all too soon, but you did not budge, hand still gripping soft locks and thighs still imprisoning his flushed face. Your breath was still short, and your eyes still wet; you did not move. You did not want to. The blonde waited, tongue still wandering along his own lips in search for remnants of your taste.

Time seemed to have stopped. It was only you, wordless and lost, staring at the blank wall, and the nameless blonde, laying his head shyly on your thighs. His breath was soft and his eyelids closed, but he was not asleep— somehow, you knew.

He waited for your further command, quietly, obediently, those love-filled brown eyes of his closed and allowing you to leave. But you never gave him one.

It was only silence as you dressed again. He sat on the floor, where you left him, only gazing up at you when you turned your back to him. The world was cold without him pressed against you. Yet you opened the door all the same, ready to close it on that dream world once and for all.

“… Will you come back?” His voice was no longer husky or filled with lust, yet the quiet, obsessive,  _ gentle _ devotion remained.

You wondered what his face looked like. But you never turned back. You couldn’t. The door closed, and with it your assailant  _ (your pet) _ disappeared, off to a world you would perhaps never step into again.

But you hoped he heard, even with the sound of the heavy door closing behind you. You hoped he heard your shaky voice, much smaller now that he wasn’t restrained at your feet, and that quiet “Maybe” that slipped past your lips before you could leave; disappearing into the night to a world that felt lonely without the gentle weight of his eyes on you.

**Author's Note:**

> the "hurting pretty boys" agenda leaves me no respite, and kaoru hakaze is a perfect target!
> 
> this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i'm wondering if i should make this into a three-chapter small fic.... decisions, decisions. maybe eventual backstory on his stalker-ish antics and some pegging down the road??
> 
> as usual i feed upon stray comments like they're ambrosia so pls don't hesitate to leave your thoughts, suggestions and ideas down there :)


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